


Brother

by roughlycut



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Human Genji Shimada, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 03:33:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11371719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roughlycut/pseuds/roughlycut
Summary: It’s not the worst Genji has ever looked and it’s nothing out of the ordinary, Genji being at Hanzo’s room at 3 am wanting to crash. Yet there is something about the tone of his question, paired with the way he looks tonight. Apprehensive and vulnerable. Normally Genji would ask, yes, but not wait for Hanzo to reply. Normally he’d just walk in and collapse on Hanzo’s couch, or his bed, taking up as much space as possible in both Hanzo’s room and in his mind.





	Brother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [v0idwitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/v0idwitch/gifts).



> Based of a sentence prompt from tumblr. This was no. 53 "I don't want to be alone right now" requested by v0idwitch.
> 
> It's the first fic I've written in almost 2 months and it's been a struggle for me to finish it. I've had (and probably still have) writers block, and it sucks. I know this is not like the juicy pwp kink fic I usually write, but in order for me to work through my writers block, I tried to write more about emotions and feelings. I hope you'll like it.

"Can I stay with you tonight, brother?" Genji asks from the open doorway, sounding more sober than Hanzo would have expected at this hour. The smell of alcohol and flowery perfume reeking off of him reaches Hanzo’s nose and he looks up from his tablet, slowly, faking disinterest. Genji looks like he always does after a night out, albeit a bit more disshelved. Green hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, shirt buttons uneven, eyeliner and glitter eyeshadow smudged. His stockings are ripped, a big hole torn at his left knee, showing off a grim looking combination of a scrape and a bruise. Hanzo ignores his urge to tend to his brother, fighting to keep up his somewhat distant façade. It’s better like that, for Genji to remain in the dark, unaware of Hanzo’s feelings.

It’s not the worst Genji has ever looked and it’s nothing out of the ordinary, Genji being at Hanzo’s room at 3 am wanting to crash. Yet there is something about the tone of his question, paired with the way he looks tonight. Apprehensive and vulnerable. Normally Genji would ask, yes, but not wait for Hanzo to reply. Normally he’d just walk in and collapse on Hanzo’s couch, or his bed, taking up as much space as possible in both Hanzo’s room and in his mind.

But tonight it’s different somehow.

Hanzo puts away his tablet, taking a closer look at his brothers face. Tries to catch his eye. But Genji looks everywhere but at him, eyes darting around the room, unable to fixate on anything. His breathing is shallow, like he’s out of breath, and Hanzo wonders what kind of new drug he’s taken this time. Genji knew how to take care of himself, but occasionally he’d get too drunk, get too stupid for his own good. Hanzo opens his mouth to speak, ask Genji what he’s taken this time, but feels the words die on his tongue as his eyes catch a series of blooming hickeys on his brother’s neck, half way hidden by the collar of his rumpled shirt. There’s a sting of jealousy in Hanzo’s chest, like a knife twisting between his ribs. He clenches his fist, cursing at himself for thinking Genji would ever want him, desire him, like he does.

"What's wrong with your own room?" He says, voice cold and dismissive. The urge to enquire about the night’s events bubbles under his skin. But he doesn’t want to know, not really, and it’s none of his business anyway. Genji does what he does, and Hanzo pretends he doesn’t care. Buries the lust for his own brother deep within himself. Wastes away his days with studying and training, making sure to keep his distance.

Genji shuffles nervously, finally fixing his gaze on a spot behind Hanzo, eyes wet.

"I-I don't want to be alone right now."

"And you didn't consider that I might?" Hanzo snaps back, on his feet before he's able to stop himself, jealousy in full fledge, “You really think I like sitting here, relaxing in my own room, only to have your drunken ass barge in, asking to sleep in my room like – like some _child_!?”

Genji winces at the words, folding his arms across his stomach. He looks smaller, younger, head bowed as tears start to drip from his eyes onto the floor. Hanzo feels his face burn with embarrassment and anger, fists clenched hard, his own nails digging into his palms.

“Genji I -,” he starts, but his throat tightens as his brother lifts his head and looks at him, tears running down his face. Hanzo sighs and gestures in the air, hopes to convey some form of apology that’s still dismissive enough to make Genji leave. But nothing comes to mind. Genji suppresses something that sounds like a sob and looks back down at the floor.

Hanzo wants to tell him how much he hates himself, hates the way he feels, how he makes Genji feel when he loses control like this. Hates how he can’t conceal his emotions. Because he doesn't want to be alone, of course he doesn’t. He wants to hold his little brother close, soothe him. He wants to kiss away his tears. Take care of him like none of the countless lovers Genji has seems to be able to. But he can’t, he’s not allowed, so he does nothing. He lets the jealousy rage inside him, unspoken and unreciprocated feelings making him bitter. He wants to tell Genji that he used to be able to ignore it, go out on his own and find someone, anyone really, that could make him forget. At least for a little while. But that it doesn’t work anymore, hasn’t worked in a long time. And that now all he has to defend himself with, protect himself with, is words. Cold and harsh, meant to drive them further apart. He wants to tell Genji how much it hurts him having to do that. How much it pains him to do nothing now, knowing Genji will never ask again. Knowing that if he does not come to his brother aid now, when he most seems to need it, Genji will not reach out again. Ever.

Genji shots Hanzo a quick look, eyes filled with tears, like he’s waiting for a follow up. But Hanzo says nothing. Does nothing. He holds his breath, masking the pain it causes him to ignore Genji’s obvious cry for help.

"Sorry, brother, I just ... I thought-" Genji mumbles, defeated, taking a step back into the hallway. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand, like a child, shattering Hanzo’s heart into a million pieces as he remembers their mother’s funeral. How Genji, barely five years old, kept asking when their mother would come back home, refusing to believe she was gone. Dead. Murdered. How Genji hadn’t started crying until a month later, when the realization had finally hit him. Hanzo had yet to find something that pained him more than watching his brother cry.

"Sorry, brother, it’s-," Hanzo starts, scrambling for soothing words that’ll undo the hurt he’s inflicted, "It’s been a long day. I’m just … I’m tired. But of course, Genji, of course you can stay. You can always stay.”

Genji raises his head slowly, wiping his tear-stained cheeks with his sleeve, before stepping back into Hanzo's room. He walks towards the bed, fingers already unbuttoning his shirt. Hanzo sits back down on his couch, eyes back on his tablet, determined not to look as his brother undresses and slides under the covers.

"Thank you," Genji mutters, sounding like he’s half asleep already.

Hanzo just nods, as if to say it doesn't matter, and for a second he almost believes things will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'd be very happy if you left a comment, just letting me know what you think.  
> You're also welcome to come talk to me on [my tumblr](http://silasthemutant.tumblr.com/) or [my twitter](https://twitter.com/BlueEyedMutt).


End file.
